


Neighbors in a Mask

by Tineabean



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bamf marinette, Depression, F/M, MariBat, Neighbors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Damian Wayne, Tumblr: maribat-2k20, a little blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tineabean/pseuds/Tineabean
Summary: After a difficult final battle with Hawkmoth, Marinette flees Paris in an attempt to recover. Gotham was interesting to say the least, and her new neighbor was a real grouch. Oh well, at least it's not that hard to avoid one guy, right?
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Comments: 20
Kudos: 409





	Neighbors in a Mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Theatreandcomicfreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatreandcomicfreak/gifts).



> This is my Maribat Secret Santa gift for theatreandcomicfreak - I hope she likes it!😁 It was supposed to be a one-shot, but it kept going, and I'm not sure I can call it that anymore😂 It just kept going, and the ending is a little abrupt, but I was running low on time (I think it flows pretty well considering).  
> I'm sorry for the absence on my other story - I promise I haven't abandoned it, just wanted this to be good😊 Merry Christmas everyone, hope you like this!😁✨🎄🎁🎀🎉

“Ok - ok, you can do this! This is just a friendly introduction, what could go wrong? New town, new place, new start.” A wet nose nudged her hand in agreement with her little self-pep talk, and she smiled at her furry companion. Marinette squared her shoulders and knocked on the apartment marked ‘655’, the mantra ‘new town, new place, new start’ ran on repeat in the back of her mind. She fidgeted listening for signs of life on the other end of the door. 

She jumped when the door suddenly and silently opened to reveal a man her age - half-dressed, extremely attractive, and wearing the least welcoming glower she’d ever seen. 

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I… uh… next door… chest moved in… shirtless - I mean!” She sputtered, face resembling a tomato and she barely managed to grab the plate of macaroons she’d lost her hold on while she flailed.  _ Holy hell, I haven’t sputtered this much since… _

**That** thought sobered her right up, and she shook her head to clear the nervous clutter. She took a big breath and started again.

“Sorry - I just moved in next door,” she jerked a thumb to her left, indicating the other condo in the pair. “I wanted to bring these over and introduce myself - I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my dog Squishy.” She gestured to the cream-colored Pit Bull, and he glanced down for a half a moment. “I just moved here from Paris! I’m a fashion designer and novice gardener-” 

“Look, I have a lot of work to do,” He cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “I am not interested in whatever you are selling - whether it is a product, business deal, or yourself.” Her jaw dropped. “I do not socialize beyond what is forced upon me by my family - so you have wasted your time. Good day.” He nodded stiffly at her and shut the door.

_ What the fu… _

She stared at the same spot on the forest green door until Squishy whined and nudged her hand. She looked to see the dog leaning on her leg and slowly wagging her tail.

“Squish… did you hear him say what I  _ think  _ he said?” She asked, looking at the door. She received another nudge, this time from her purse on her other side. 

She peered down to see Tikki’s blue orbs looking at her with concern. Marinette smiled in reassurance.

“I’m fine Tik - just rebooting.” A small giggle sounded from the bag, and Mari’s smile grew. She gave the door one last look and huffed.

“Oh well,” She shrugged. “Might as well head home.” 

She stepped off his stoop and strolled over to her own, her deep red door already decorated with a spring wreath - little ladybugs hidden throughout. She shut the door behind her and caught the plate for a second time when a black blur zipped right in front of her face.

“Hey Bug, I overheard your little exchange… want me to phase over and cataclysm his TV or something?” 

“Plagg! What have I said about startling me? You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” He ignored her, floating in lazy circles near her ear. She continued to grumble about the cat as she continued to the kitchen - Tikki flying out of Mari’s purse to join her other half. 

“No cataclysms!” The Luck God scolded him, crossing her paws. “We can’t risk anyone becoming suspicious of where the guardian is - anyone who knows the temple returned will be on the hunt!”

“Please,” Plagg scoffed. “I can pop in and out without him noticing and not leave a trace - it’d probably at least annoy the hell out of Mr-stick-up-his-”

“As much as I’d like to get him back for his rude comment - seriously, where does he get off?!” Marinette interrupted with a sigh and a small smile. “Tikki’s right, and it wouldn’t be very guardian  _ or  _ Ladybug-like of me besides.”

“Fine - but the offer still stands.” The little floating cat huffed, flying over to where Squishy cuddled in her bed by the window, watching her owner for signs of needing her. 

It was odd how well the dog and cat god got along - Plagg refused to acknowledge he was fond of the Pit Bull, but they were found more often than not sleeping curled together on Mari’s bed at night, and Marinette suspected he snuck her treats.

“As long as we don’t see each other much beyond going in or out of our places - it shouldn’t be a problem.” She shrugged, popping a cookie from the plate in her mouth and handing one to Tikki who happily accepted. “With how ‘busy’ he alluded to being - it shouldn’t be hard.”

* * *

Turns out - easier said than done.

She saw him the next day in line at a coffee shop accompanied by a man a few years older than him who looked as if death had warmed over. Mr. Grouchy made eye contact with her and scowled before turning away with a tsk.

She rolled her eyes and focused back on the barista. “Hello,” she smiled as much as she could manage at the buttcrack of dawn. “It’s a longshot, but do you happen to have any ‘Black Insomnia’ or ‘High Voltage’?” The blonde behind the counter paled.

“Not another one.” She whispered, her eyes darting over to the man being tugged along by her neighbor. 

Marinette tilted her head in question, and the barista seemed to shake it off.

“We are well stocked with Black Insomnia, what size will it be and how would you like it made?” She asked, her customer service smile strained.

“The largest you have - as black as you can make it.” She smiled back and took her receipt, walking over to a booth, overhearing her call out for a “Suicidal Wayne” just as another worker called out for the same drink. 

The older boy, the one who looked in desperate need of a good night's sleep, leaned on Mr. Pissy as if he was the only thing keeping him upright - but at the mention of the order, his eyes snapped over to her. He gave her a small wave, and she returned it with a quirked brow. He looked close to moving over, but Sir Scowls-a-lot stopped him with a hand on his arm. He spoke in a low voice, and the tired man’s face melted into a mix of disappointment and exasperation. The man shot her an annoyed look and turned back to the front.

She wanted to go over and demand to know what he could possibly say having met her once for five minutes, but the barista called out three names - hers, ‘Tim’, and ‘Damian’. She walked up before the two could move and grabbed her cup, thanking the woman, before brushing past ‘Tim and Damian’ on her way out. She was in a rush - there was a show coming up next week and she had fittings all day, she didn’t have time to deal with her asshat of a neighbor and his friend with good taste in coffee.

* * *

As the days passed, they continued bumping into each other. Their dynamic well-past talking, favoring annoyed glares and eye rolls. He wanted to scare her off (the Wayne lawyer way or Robin way - he hadn’t decided yet), but his father and brothers refused - insisting she hadn’t done anything deserving of any kind of action.

_ Yet. _ His mind supplied. 

There was something off about her - the sixth sense he’d acquired through his life was never wrong, and she set it off like fireworks whenever she was near. He couldn’t get a read on her intentions, but he wasn’t one to wait for the other shoe to drop - he planned to keep his eye on her.

* * *

He saw her again on patrol a week and a half after she first knocked on his door.

He was in  costume uniform tailing a group of five men who had recently left a warehouse that belonged to the Penguin. Red Hood stationed across the street following parallel to him. 

The men turned the corner on Hood’s side, and Robin signaled he would wait until they were out of earshot before grappling over. Hood nodded and continued trailing them. 

Robin waited for a beat, then shot his hook out to grab the highest ledge available. 

“Shit.” Hood’s voice through his comm made his hand jerk and his grappling hook missed the mark. He released his own curse and reshot as soon as the cable fully retracted. 

“Report, Hood.” He snapped, flipping at the arc of his swing and sailing over the first building. 

“They’re targeting a girl - she looks your age, tiny, at least partially Asian,” Hood grunted lowly.

Damian groaned.

“Acquaintance of yours, Demon Spawn?” Red Hood teased.

“No names in the field, Hood.” He hissed. “And it’s my new neighbor - she keeps popping up like a bad penny.”

“The one you said tried to butter you up with cookies, and drinks the same motor oil as Replacement?” Hood asked. Robin landed beside him, leaning over the ledge to watch the girl’s progress as she leisurely strolled down the street with several shopping bags. 

“<Tt>, idiot,” Robin muttered under his breath. “That’s her.” He glanced at Hood who nodded. 

“You know - I still say you might have misjudged the situation - Timmy said she didn’t seem the cozy-ing up type and seemed kinda openly pissed at you.” Red Hood mused.

“No. Names. In. The. Field. Hood.” Robin grit out, tired of this conversation - he’d had versions of it with his family ever since the coffee shop incident. 

Everyone insisted the Dupain-Cheng girl was trying to be nice - but he looked through her records, and found an unprecedented amount of bullying accusations against her in high school, and she’d quit her job at ‘Agreste’ with no warning - but that was oddly heavily-guarded information. He had been locked out of many of even the simplest social media accounts and public records - especially anything to do with the Agreste brand founder. A familiar itch on the back of his neck told him he was onto something big - and his suspiciously friendly neighbor was connected.

Hood took a breath as if to continue the conversation when Robin put a hand up and signaled downward. 

They both looked to see the tiny girl turn sharply across the road and into a dead-end alleyway.  _ She’s even stupider than I assumed  _ , Robin mentally groaned as he and Red Hood scrambled to follow.

They dropped to street-level and ran over to the alley, prepared to find the young woman in need of saving, only to see three men passed out near the entrance. A dented trash lid resting nearby. The small girl, who looked like Red Hood could lift her with one hand, flipped a fourth over her shoulder with ease. 

“Holy Mother-” Hood gaped at the scene and sidestepped the flying body - it landed behind him on top of the others.

Robin didn’t flinch as the man sailed past and ruffled his cape. His eyes were fixed on the girl as she high-kicked the last man under the jaw - knocking him out immediately. He couldn’t stop the words ‘ _ almalak almuharib _ [1] _ ’ _ from slipping past his lips in an awed gasp. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. 

He shook himself, scowling at the foolish thoughts that rose unbidden.  _ Perhaps she is a shaman or spell caster. That is it - this must be a spell.  _ He reasoned to himself.

He watched, still unable to move, as the girl dusted off her clothes and reached into her bag. 

“Are you two gonna help, or do you plan to stand there with your mouths open like a couple of fish.” She asked as she turned around with a handful of zip ties, eyebrow quirked. 

“You have one hell of a kick, kid.” Red Hood broke the silence, moving forward to grab a few of the proffered zip ties (even though he had plenty of his own). 

“It was nothing.” She brushed off the complement with a wave of her hand and a light rose dusting on her cheeks. 

Red Hood scoffed, “Whatever kid, that was the most badass take-down I’ve seen in a while - and I know Wonder Woman.” He extended his fist for a bump.

Her smile fell from her face as if she’d been slapped - her eyes fixated on the proffered fist and starting to water. 

“Uh…” Red Hood lowered his arm, “I ain’t trying to hit you kid… you guys have fist bumps in Europe, right?” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“I… It’s nothing - you just... reminded me of a friend.” She whispered, taking in a shuddering breath and turning sharply to secure the last guy she knocked unconscious. 

Robin shared a look with his brother (an odd thing to do through a helmet, but they knew each other well enough for it to work) and shrugged, before taking out his own zip ties and turning to the pile of three large men. 

As they finished with the other four, Marinette walked past them with her bags and a quick “I’ll leave them to you, then” - and left the alleyway, disappearing from sight. 

“That… was weird, right?” Hood said, staring after her. “Shouldn’t we make her stick around to give a statement?” 

Robin shook his head slowly. “I think… it would be best to let her go... this time. We have both seen that look before.”  _ In the mirror every time we lost a teammate in battle, _ he glared where he’d last seen her retreating figure, and puzzled over the new information. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I agree she can fight and all, but are you really saying that the little pipsqueak...” He choked out in surprise, Damian could tell his eyes were bugging under his mask.

“I’m not sure, but she’s certainly no average civilian.” He cut his brother off with a shake of his head. “I suggest we keep an eye on her.”

“Hey, if you two have finished your little intrusion into the poor girl’s life and traumas, the police are a minute out.” Barbra, or rather, Oracle’s voice sounded from their earpieces.

Damian took one last look at where she’d disappeared to before turning away with narrowed eyes and a “<Tt>”.

* * *

Marinette withdrew following the encounter in the alley - barely acknowledging her surly neighbor, Squishy refused to leave her side, and Plagg and Tikki often needed to call her name several times before she’d respond… The Kwamii were worried. 

“Tik… we only  _ just  _ pulled her out of the slump she was in back in Paris after…” Plagg’s normally light and expressive face fell, his tail, ears, and whiskers drooping.

“I know… It’s never easy to lose one.” She whispered with a pained wince, past memories flashing in front of her eyes. She floated over to her other half and pulled him into her, petting the back of his head as stuttering purrs overtook his shaking. 

“If she continues to relive it, we’ll lose her too - remember Keket.” Tikki shuddered at the reminder of the young girl. 

“No… we can’t let that happen again,” Plagg growled, the memories of the long lost kitten painful even all these years later. They couldn’t let that happen to Marinette. Tikki nodded firmly into his shoulder.

* * *

Marinette stretched out under a large oak tree in the city gardens, her sketchbook open on her lap and Squishy laid over her legs - keeping guard. She stared at the blank page with unfocused eyes, memories swimming in her head out of order and distorted. 

“*Sniff* Mommy... Daddy…” A small voice sobbed, pulling her from her musings. She closed her book and set it aside. Squishy took that as a signal to get up and look around, her ears swiveling alertly. 

“Where is it coming from, Squish?” She reached to rest her hand on the dog’s back, Marinette stood and looked around intently. 

Her dog gave a soft *wuff* and tugged on the leash. Marinette turned and allowed the Pit Bull to direct her. As they neared the bushes the sound came from, Marinette stopped short at the sight of a familiar well-kept head of dark hair and moved her and Squishy to peek around them to the bench beyond.

From her position, she saw her prickly neighbor crouching next to a boy of about five or six whose cries turned into soft giggles as a Great Dane licked at his face, tail wagging wildly.

“Alright Titus, let the boy breathe.” The man grunted, tugging lightly on the large dog’s collar. “Now, have you calmed enough to tell me your name?” He asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, turning his attention to the boy. The kid nodded, sniffing and reaching out to pat the dog - who happily leaned in. 

“E-Ethan… My name’s Ethan Sorensen, Mr. Wayne.” He said shyly. 

“Ah, you recognize me?” The younger boy nodded, still stroking the dog.

The Wayne Heir returned the nodd. “Good - at least you didn’t talk to a complete stranger. You should be more careful though, the world - and this city especially - are dangerous places for someone young and inexperienced.” He scolded with a frown. 

The boy shrunk in, and Titus nudged further into the boy, whining slightly. The temperamental man sighed and hesitantly put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I do not mean to be harsh - I am merely glad I found you first.” He gave the boy a strained smile and it received a laugh from the kid. His eye twitched in annoyance.

“<Tt>,” He groused, pulling back and taking out his phone. He tapped a few times before placing the phone against his ear. “Gordon, I have a boy named Ethan Sorensen alone in the Southeast end of Robinson Park, have there been any missing child reports?” He nodded at whatever response he received. “Good, let your father know we will wait for them on a bench... Yes, of course I plan to remain with him! He is no older than six!... Yes, yes, I will stay behind to issue a statement to the officer… Goodbye Gordon.” He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket before turning back to the boy.

“Your parents are on their way, would you like to play fetch with Titus until they arrive?” He received a shy nodd in return and handed over a yellow batman-themed ball which was enthusiastically chased once thrown. 

Marinette watched a few more throws before retreating to the tree where she had left her bag and packed up.

“So he can be sweet,” she mused to Tikki under her breath.

The Kwamii poked her head out of Mari’s pocket and giggled. “Though he didn’t seem super comfortable with the situation, he went out of his way to be kind to the boy. He stepped up when needed.” 

“Yeah, I guess our grumpy-goose next door  _ can  _ act like a human - now and then.” Marinette laughed, turning toward the park’s exit, a light flutter in her chest after watching her awkward frenemy do something kind.

* * *

That night, Marinette seriously considered donning her mask for the first time in over a year. 

She couldn’t explain why, but watching Damian’s secretly sweet nature peek through had lifted her spirits. She felt more like her old self than she had in a long time. 

The dark and handsome man was obviously out of his comfort zone in interacting with the boy, but his desire to help another person outweighed his own discomfort. Mari’s guardian senses could  _ see  _ the effort it took to overcome the deep-seated parasitic darkness that latched onto his being. . 

Her bones buzzed with an energy that had been absent for a year. She didn't call for a transformation though - her Guardian duties came first, and she needed to understand the city as a healer before she could take on an active protector role.

Using the recovered energy, she took back up a project she'd been working on - knitting hats, gloves, and scarves with needles Wayzz helped her infuse with a warming charm. She planned to give them away at the shelter she volunteered at on weekends when the weather turned in a few months.

She had four sets of mittens done and adjusted the needles to start on a fifth when a loud crash sounded from the other end of the wall. She jumped up and grabbed the retractable baton she stored in her crafting room, sliding into a crouching position. Tikki and Plagg flew over from the cushion they were lounging on to hover next to her. 

They waited in suspense - listening for clues as to what was going on beyond the wall. 

After a few moments, a pained groan sounded along with another, smaller crash. 

_ Was it… her surly Wayne neighbor?  _

She shared a glance with Tikki and Plagg, and the three nodded. Plagg phased through the wall, and Tikki flew to Mari’s shoulder. An anxious minute later, Plagg returned, stifling laughter with his paws.

“Oh yeah - he’s gonna need some help,” He snorted. “And what is it with you attracting all the weirdos?” He cackled, flying over to the mini-fridge she kept stocked with Kwamii food and phasing through. 

“You’ll want to bring the first aid kit,” he continued, exiting the fridge with a small wheel of cheese and taking a large bite before continuing. “Probably keep the baton with you in case there’s trouble - the kid may not be much help watching your back.”

That snapped her to attention, and she rushed off to her bathroom to grab the enormous first aid kit she collected over years of hero work. She pulled on a coat - Tikki slipping into a pocket - and shoved her feet into her deep red combat boots, quickly tying them before rushing out her front door and over to the stoop she’d glared at in passing for weeks.

Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself before testing the door - which was of course locked. She huffed and pulled out the lock-pick set she stored in the inner lining of her boots. She unlocked the door after two frustrating minutes - it seemed her neighbor wasn’t satisfied with the standard locks that came with the condos and installed his own.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and re-locked it - noticing a blinking red light on a small black box along the side of the door. 

_ Probably a silent alarm,  _ she mused,  _ No matter - I’m here to help and have no intention of harming… Oh geez, I don’t even know his name - what will the police think when they arrive here?! What names did the barista say at the coffee house? - Tim and… Damian? Gah! It doesn’t matter - he still needs help! _ She shook herself and continued along the hallway with the first aid kit in her left hand and the baton in her right - raised and ready for trouble. 

“Um… Hello?” She called out, deciding it was better to alert any robbers than to scare her injured neighbor. “It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng - your neighbor next door? I heard a crash and someone in pain, so I let myself in…” Having cleared the first floor, she turned to the stairs at the back of the house past the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne?”

A pained grunt sounded from the top of the stairs and she tensed further, not foolish enough to rush ahead after the warning Plagg gave - even if it wasn’t bad enough to insist on coming himself.

“Is that you, Mr. Wayne?” She called, narrowing her eyes as she reached the top of the stairs. 

“I...in here...” A deep male voice coughed from the last room to her right, and she heard a low growling as she entered the room.

“I’m going to turn on the light.” She called a moment before she did.

Muttered cursing sounded at the light and drew her eyes to the floor under the window where the young Wayne lay on his side, clutching a gash over his chest, and surrounded by glass. The man was dressed in a ripped Robin uniform she’d become familiar with due to all the merch that littered the city. 

“Oh…” Marinette whispered, Plagg’s comment on attracting weirdos now making sense. She heaved a deep sigh. 

“His name is Titus, right?” The dog twitched at his name, and his master nodded stiffly. “Will he let me take a look at your injuries?” She retracted the baton and set it on the ground slowly with the kit, keeping her movements slow, and returning to a standing position with her palms empty and up. 

“Titus, _hda_ [2].” The dog slowly relaxed his tense position and looked back at the boy on the ground behind him. “ _Rahab_ [3].” The man said, nodding toward her, wincing as it pulled at one of his many injuries. 

Though she didn’t understand the language of the commands, their meanings were obvious - she sank to the floor again and turned to her side, slowly offering her hand for the great black beast to sniff. He cautiously approached her and watched her body language intently as he snuffled at her hand - leaving a cool trail behind, which would have made her giggle in another situation. 

Finally deciding to trust her , he licked her cheek and released a whine - tugging her jacket sleeve over to his injured master. She reached back to grab her kit and allowed the dog to pull her forward. 

“Where are you hurt most severely?” She asked, kneeling beside him, ignoring the few pricks of glass in her legs as she did so. 

“The gash on my chest is the only one that needs looked at immediately... the others are superficial.” He wheezed lightly, his voice strained. 

“Was your head or spine injured to your knowledge?” At the slight shake of his head, she carefully slid her arms under him and gently lifted him into a princess carry. He let out an indignant and surprised  manly squeak and she tried to hide her smile.

“Your partners, do you want me to contact them?” She asked, entering the connected bathroom and flipping the switch with her shoulder. 

“My communicator and tracker are busted - though if you came through the front door, they were alerted and will send someone to check when I do not respond.”

She nodded and set him into the tub as gently as she could, shooing Titus away from sticking his head in as close as he could get it to the man. She set her kit on the floor and pulled out a pair of scissors. He snorted at the sight.

“Those will not even make a scratch in -” She grinned at his stunned silence as she nearly glided through the material, snagging a few times on previously patched parts. 

“...” He stared at the scissors as she shifted to cut the sleeves. “This is the  _ highest grade  _ kevlar… how in the…” He turned to meet her laughing eyes and quirked an eyebrow. 

“I have my secrets,” She gestured to the suit she was tearing into. “And you have your’s.” He pinned her with a look, but she raised her own brow as if to ask  _ ‘you don’t actually expect me to tell you, do you? _ ’

He scoffed and turned to the wall. 

She laughed and moved the last of the material out of the way - turning back to her kit to gather her supplies. 

“I don’t suppose you’d let me give you any Lidocaine?” He gave her a ‘what do you think?’ look. “That’s what I thought - want something to bite on?” 

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning away again. 

“Alright tough guy, I’m gonna just dive in - if you need a break or want to change your mind, let me know.” He nodded, and she threaded the hooked needle, glancing at him once more before starting in. 

She was amazed at how little he reacted - a few face twitches at most - and she made sure to get through it as quickly as possible. After tying it off, she cleaned around the wound and taped gauze over it, and nodded to herself in satisfaction. 

She turned to grab more alcohol swabs, only to find the injured hero unsteadily climbing to his feet. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked, exasperated. 

“The rest is livable - I will be fine. Thank you for-” 

“Thank me when I’m done patching you up, you stubborn fool.” She rolled her eyes, pushing him back down. 

“ _ How _ are you so strong?!” He huffed. “I don’t know of many civilians who could lift a grown man without an issue…” He left the statement trailing like a question, and she laughed.

“I grew up in a bakery - I’ve been lifting bags of flour my whole life.” She shrugged, taping up his finished arm and moving onto another gash. 

“Sure…” He scoffed, not believing for a second that was all there was to it. She shrugged in response.

They sat in silence until she finished , tapping on the last square of gauze. 

“Alright,” She helped him to his feet and over to his bed. “Is there anything else you need?” 

He shook his head, giving a soft ‘Thank you’ - reaching out to catch her hand as she began walking over to retrieve the baton she’d left by his door. 

“Truly - I… I would have been in trouble if you had not found me when you did. The others are in the middle of a fight and my beacon was broken before I could activate it… there might still be time before they worry.” 

“Happy to help.” She smiled, patting his arm. He nodded, breaking eye contact again and patting Titus who jumped on the bed to snuggle the man. 

“By the way…” She started. “What  _ is _ your name? I know your last name is Wayne - that’s what the boy at the park said anyway, and I think it’s either ‘Damian’ or ‘Tim’ - because those were the names the barista gave at the coffee shop…”

“Wait,” He stopped her. “You… don’t know who I am?” 

“Um… should I? The way the boy said it made it sound as if you’re well known here - but I’m only familiar with Parisian celebrities.” 

“Oh, then… I believe I may owe you an apology.” He scratched the back of his head, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Yes, yes you do - but what are you referring to?” She started with a irked look, and he had the decency to look abashed. 

“When you first came to my door… I thought it another instance of someone trying to get in my good graces because I’m a Wayne. My father and brothers have warned me against social climbers, and I find it best to avoid encouraging them by making my disinterest known right away.” He still refused to meet her eyes and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

She waited until he met her eyes before speaking. “I appreciate and accept your apology, and I understand. ” He raised a disbelieving brow. 

“No,” she chuckled, “Really. Back in Paris, I had a few friends who suffered from the same problem - an Olympic fencer, a model, a rock singer…” She shrugged. “I get it… but I’d also like to start again if you’re up for it?” 

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her sincerity, before he slowly nodded and extended his hand.

“Hello… I am Damian Wayne.” She grinned and grasped his hand. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

* * *

Dick burst into the apartment moments after Marinette returned to her own home - leaving her phone number behind with strict instructions to call if he needed anything. He explained what happened - causing Dick check for a concussion when he openly admitted to misjudging her - and was taken to the cave. 

Alfred was impressed with Marinette’s stitch job, and only needed to re-bandage the wounds he’d checked. His father had interrogated him for several hours when he found out a near-stranger knew  _ at least _ Robin’s identity. He was talked down from all-out kidnapping the girl for answers only because Damian insisted on it - and he rarely stood up for his family, let alone strangers. So, they decided to keep a close eye on her when she went out (Damian living directly next door kept them from over-bugging the outside of her home). 

They discovered she worked in a small boutique in the Fashion District, and volunteered at a shelter. When she wasn’t at either of those places or running errands, she wandered the city for places to sit and sketch. They had the sneaking suspicion she knew of their presence , but hadn’t caught her looking directly at them yet. 

They were all wary of her but eventually eased up on their suspicions the more they were around the little - but strangely strong - ball of sunshine. 

* * *

A few nights later, Damian awoke to the sounds of muffled cries. He instinctively jolted out of bed and reached for the sword next to his nightstand. Listening, he found the sounds came from Marinette’s apartment. He popped open the door to his balcony located on the same wall as hers. 

Leaping over - narrowly avoiding knocking over one of the many pots strewn on every surface - he slunk over to her door and peeked inside, expecting a struggle and looking for the best opening to intervene. 

What he saw was his small neighbor (friend?) curled on her bed, tangled in her blankets, with tears streaming down her face. She thrashed, a whimper loud enough for him to hear through the glass slipping through her lips. 

He sighed and set his shoulders - he’d seen enough night terrors from his brothers, the Titans, and even members of his grandfather’s League to know he wouldn’t leave her to suffer, but not looking forward to explaining how he entered .

Working on the simple lock, he slid the door open silently, and closed it behind him, leaning his sword against it where she wouldn’t notice it unless she paid attention. . 

A whine halted his approach, and he paused, noticing the butter-colored Pit Bull at the foot of the bed - having obviously knocked off in her mistress’ movement - and reached a hand out. The dog sniffed hesitantly, her tail stuck firmly between her legs, and her ears flat against her head in worry. 

“It’s alright, girl, I am here to help.” He soothed, rubbing at her ears until her tail uncurled and began to half-heartedly wag.

“NON!... CHAT!” The girl on the bed sobbed, her arms flailing as if reaching for something.

He was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arms and readying himself in case she fought him.

“Mari!” He called, shaking her none too gently, “Mari! It is a dream! You need to wake up!” 

It took several tries, but soon her eyes shot open. 

She sat up, latching onto the first thing she found, and as he still held her wrists, (and her dog was on the floor) he found his arms full of a sobbing Marinette. She gasped, muttering in French how sorry she was, how she should have been stronger, how it was her fault… 

He held her, as his brothers did for him for months after he came back from the pits and awoke from his own nightmares. He started to rock back and forth - smoothing her hair, and she cuddled in closer, her cries pittering out. 

The city’s ambience filled the room - interspersed with the slight creaking of the bed at Damian’s continued rocking motion.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” He asked after what felt like both a moment and an eternity.

She hesitated, before starting in a small, frail voice. 

He learned what transpired in France with the villain the League had been forbidden from interfering with. She told him of the emotional trauma - having to police your own emotions, watching loved ones be used, watching them die horribly, only to have them come back with no memory of the fact. 

And then - she told him about Ladybug. 

She didn’t swear him to secrecy or threaten him if he told anyone - it spilled out with everything else. 

She had been alone. 

As a civilian, she was isolated, and as a hero - she had no one to lean on, especially once entrusted with the Guardian title. She had only her Kwamii (whatever that was - she made it seem like some all-powerful sprite) who knew her identity, and she couldn’t properly vent for fear of becoming ‘akumatized’.

She told him about the final battle. How it turned out to be the father of a friend who terrorized everyone, how her partner had nearly fallen apart in grief - as it was  _ his  _ father - and how her partner, her friend, had died saving her from his father’s blade. The blow caused his own power, a "cataclysm" to defensively implode, destroying everything in the vicinity - even the bearer of the ring. Marinette's saving grace was her own power, the ultimate balance to destruction, which shielded her from the blast.

She sobbed into his shoulder after the tale was done until she eventually fell into a deep sleep. 

He set her back into the bed gently and covered her with the blankets. Moving to the chair in the corner he slumped down, head in his hands, absorbing the emotion and information her story had left him with. 

A wet nose nudged his arm, and he looked down to see her dog slowly wagging her tail and giving him sad puppy-eyes. He gave her a small smile. 

“It’ll be alright…” He shifted to search for a tag to find her name - not remembering it from Marinette’s initial introduction. 

“It’s Squishy.” A small, high voice called. He jerked his head up to watch a red fairy-bug…thing float down to rest on the dog’s head. “Mari found her rooting through some trash in an alley a week after the final battle - they’ve been inseparable ever since.” 

They eyed each other for a moment before he broke the silence.

“...Tikki… right?” That was the name from Marinette’s story. She nodded, her big sky-blue eyes analyzing his soul.

“I am Tikki, Kwamii of Creation and good luck. Thank you for helping my chosen tonight - Plagg and I couldn’t wake her.” She drooped. “This one was particularly bad.” He nodded, and another sprite floated over, this one pitch black with a tail, small pointed ears, and ancient, acid green eyes.

“I’m Plagg - Kwamii of Destruction and bad luck - and I won’t hesitate to cataclysm you into oblivion if you hurt my Bug with the info she trusted you with tonight - or at all, for that matter.” It should have been impossible, with all of his experience, to be frightened of such a tiny being, but Damian found himself shuddering at the fierce protectiveness all the same. 

“Understood.” Damian nodded.

“Good.” And just like that, the eyes were half-lidded and looked bored. “Do you have any fancy cheese at your place? The Bug cut me off from the good stuff after I tangled her expensive yarn or whatever.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his ‘arms’.

“Plagg! Can you not think of your stomach for once?!” The red sprite cried, exasperated.

“I spent the whole night watching Spots and trying to wake her when the dream started, then I threatened the birdboy - that’s a long time!” He pouted, and Damian huffed in amusement at how much the tiny cat reminded him of Todd’s bottomless pit of a stomach. 

“There’s blue cheese and brie in the fridge.” He pointed down and to the side where his kitchen lay, and was shocked as the cat passed directly through the wall without a word. 

“Sorry about him ,” Tikki said with a fond sigh. “He’s worried about Mari, and pretending he doesn't care is how he copes.” She took on a serious look and pinned him with it.

“I know you’re a hero and used to keeping secrets, but the miraculous are the most powerful artifacts in the world. We existed before the dawn of man, and we will far out-live your kind.” He stared at her, the ancient power from the cat now pulsed from her, telling him she wasn’t to be trifled with. 

“Mari is all alone in this, and we planned to convince her to seek help from your “league of heroes” soon, so this is not entirely inconvenient - but she trusted  **_you_ ** . She is gifted with excellent instincts - both as a Ladybug and a Guardian - I don’t oppose her choice, but I warn you - should you cause  any harm to befall her, you will answer to  **me** .” Damian shuddered for the second time that night - the second time in  _ years  _ \- and nodded solemnly. 

“I understand.” She searched his eyes for another minute before her own softened.    
  
“I see you do. You’ve endured your own trials.” He looked at the lump on the bed to avoid her stare. “I think you will be good for each other.” She mused, rising from Squishy’s head and floating over to the wall connecting his home to Marinettes’. 

“I’m going to make sure Plagg hasn’t eaten everything you own.” She giggled, and phased through the wall. 

He released a shuddering breath and slumped down from his stiff position - reaching over to pet Squishy’s head as she leaned in and began to thump her tail against the floor. He smiled softly at the sight and sunk further back into the chair with a deep sigh.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through how to help the neighbor he’d assumed was after his money and name. He winced at his previous misconceptions. He needed more practice at learning to accurately read people - perhaps he could convince Cass to coach him in nonverbal cues. 

He shook his head, helping Marinette build a support system was top priority. He’d always bemoaned his family getting in his way - but at least he’d never been left alone. From her story, it seemed like she’d run the entire Paris operation on her own the four years Hawkmoth had been at large. 

The first step was to involve his Father and siblings - they’d know how to execute a plan - but he felt it had to come at her own pace. From what she said, she’d had no choice but to play catch-up during her entire battle - since she was twelve. 

He continued to chase his thoughts in a dizzying dance until he eventually succumbed to sleep, not noticing when the kwamii crept back and snuggled in alongside Marinette. 

* * *

Three months later - a tiny girl in a dark red and black ensemble was spotted running on rooftops alongside Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing, her light, bell-like laughter ringing out into the Gotham night. 

The local media pages blew up - the people of Gotham fell in love with their ‘Ladybird’ and her sweet nature which opposed the stoic and gruff bats. It was interesting for them to see her banter and fight alongside the other members of the team - especially Robin, who became her shadow, rarely leaving her side.

She had several blogs dedicated to her feats and theories about the miraculously healed injuries and repaired battle sites. It didn’t take long for people from France to find the numerous articles, and start the rumor she was once their ‘Ladybug’, but there was no solid evidence. The two looked and acted completely differently. 

Ladybird was free-spirited and light of heart, whereas Ladybug was serious and professional. Many speculated the Ladybug miraculous traded hands, but, as there was no supernatural Cat seen, it remained an unlikely theory.

Unfortunately for the bloggers, it was hard to snag a good look at the bats, as they thrived in the darkness. Others commented on Robin’s costume change, but Ladybird’s appearance took the spotlight. 

If they had caught a closer look, they would have found Robin’s red and yellow colors gone , and the forest green was replaced with a more muted-toxic tone. Thankfully, his hood hid the most significant changes as he now sported two small velvet ears that reacted to sound and emotion, and his usual katakana now had a pitch-black blade with green detailing on the hilt. 

In completely unrelated news, the youngest son of Gotham’s resident billionaire was in the news frequently as he’d taken to hanging around a petite Asian-French girl who was rumored to be a famous designer from France. She was photographed numerous times on outings with Damian and both their dogs - who got along even better than their owners. 

Due to her kind nature and enchanting smile, she quickly gained the nickname ‘Sunshine of Gotham’ and the tag trended frequently on Twitter. 

During an interview with a fashion magazine, she was asked if she’d ever leave the city of crime, and the answer she’d given was proudly displayed in the Gotham Gazette the next day. 

“The people of Gotham have heart and spunk which can’t be matched - I was welcomed here after a difficult time in France, and I don’t see myself growing tired of being challenged and cared for in the way only Gotham can.”

* * *

[1] Almalak almuharib - ‘Warrior Angel’ in Arabic

[2] Hda - ‘calm’ in arabic

[3] Rahab - ‘greet’ in arabic


End file.
